A celebration dinner

 

Anniversary dinner.
I discovered tonight I have no pictures of the wedding on my computer.
Eighteen years ago, I had not learned to take and save digital pictures.
So here for the algorithms is dinner tonight.

I had special dinner guests tonight—and a special menu. Mr. and Mrs. Christian Burton were celebrating their eighteenth wedding anniversary. Originally, the plan was that they would grill steaks, and I would contribute twice-baked potatoes and a blue cheese sauce for the steak. The happy couple would have a romantic, candlelit dinner while Jacob and I ate steak and potatoes in the cottage. It didn’t quite work out that way.

Their house is still awash with Christmas decorations in various stages of storage and apparently the dining table is strewn with work material from both of them. So dinner was in the cottage which I loved. And it was really good. Christian is great at grilling everything from steak to hamburger, and I tried a new twice-baked idea—cream cheese instead of the usual ingredients. After dinner, we had a bit of that good eggnog with real nog—all so rich and good I was forced to take a brief nap.

Eighteen years ago when we went to University Christian for the wedding, we had four days of parties behind us and a whole world of friends and family joining us. We’d had a big dinner for everyone at the Star Café, then owned by friends Betty and Don, and we’d had a rehearsal dinner in the chapel at Joe T.’s. The kids had taken the New York relatives to Billy Bob’s and the Stockyards, and we were all ridin’ high.

The wedding itself was lovely—Jordan had been dreaming of a Christmas wedding, with the sanctuary full of poinsettias, since she was a child, and that dream sort of set the timetable for their engagement. They hired the church choir to sing on a Saturday night, and Jordan had her sister, sisters-in-law, and cousin as attendants. Jordan’s father was unable to walk her down the aisle, so her two brothers escorted her to where her dad stood waiting—and at that moment, each brother gave her a big kiss on the cheek—it was, as one usually cynical friend said, a heart-stopping moment.

Afterward, the reception was at the Fort Worth Club. You’ll forgive me if my memories are a bit blurred, but the one that stands out is of everyone dancing in a circle to “Hava Nagila,” led by Mark, the Bronx uncle. Even Maddie, then five, was in the midst of everything.

The next morning I had something like thirty out-of-towners for breakfast, my chance to get a last visit and hug before they scattered. Many of those folks today are gone, a few disappeared from our lives, too many passed on to the next life, so that morning is a specially treasured memory. I remember that afternoon, after everyone had gone and I was alone, cleaning up, I felt an unusual sadness. I told Jeannie Chaffee it was the first time I had missed being married, because I wanted someone to re-live the weekend with, share the memories. Her reply was, “You should have called me. It would be easier than having a man around the house.”

As I’m sure the Burtons would tell you, it’s been a mostly glorious eighteen years, with one lovely son. I am so grateful and proud to be part of it in a small way.

It was a nostalgia weekend for Jordan in another way. Last night, she and Christian went to a dinner for David Barnes’ birthday. He holds the distinction of being her first high-school boyfriend, and all these years later, they are still close, although happily married to others. She has called him her “brother from another mother” and David will always have a place as part of our family.

The holiday season is off to a whizz bang start for this family. I hope it brings each of you the same kind of good memories and new happy times.